The Hidden Monster of House Vale

Lord Vale spoke, his voice a low, guttural growl that seemed to shake the very air.

"Lucien. Give him a punishment so painful that people will tremble just by hearing about it."

Lucien stood apart from the chaos, his expression eerily serene, a calm mask over the satisfaction that coiled in his chest like a serpent. He had orchestrated this entire scene—every gasp, every accusation, every moment of terror—and now the pieces fell exactly as he had envisioned. His gaze swept across the room, cataloging every flinch, every trembling lip, every widening eye.

Then he moved forward, each step deliberate and unhurried, until he stood before Dain. His voice carried the weight of cold certainty as he spoke, loud enough for all to hear:

"Father, his real target was Maisy. He was waiting for her in this room like a predator, lying in ambush to attack her—to force himself upon her."

The words landed like stones dropped into still water, ripples of horror spreading through the onlookers.

Lucien closed the distance until he was mere inches from Dain, their faces nearly touching. The predator had found its prey. Dain's eyes darted wildly, desperation clawing at his features as he realized the full scope of his predicament. His cultivation—pitifully weak at the Vein Opening Realm—was nothing against Lucien's peak Spirit Forge Realm. Even Celbeth, standing like a patient executioner nearby, surpassed him at late Spirit Forge. There was no escape. No mercy. No hope.

Lucien's hand moved with surgical precision, disappearing into Dain's chest where his heart should be. His eyes began to glow with an otherworldly light, and in that instant, he shattered Dain's spirit root—the cultivation core that had taken years to build. The destruction was absolute.

Dain's scream tore through the chamber, raw and primal, as his cultivation evaporated like morning mist. His body began to shrivel, the strength that had once flowed through his meridians draining away until he was nothing more than a mortal shell, weak and trembling.

"There we go," Lucien said, his voice soft and almost tender. "From now on, you are nothing but a mortal."

He turned his gaze toward Celbeth, who waited with barely concealed eagerness. From the void, Lucien produced a dagger—its blade seemed to drink the light, pulsating with a malevolent energy that made even the bravest onlookers step back.

"Celbeth, use this Everwound Dagger." He pressed the weapon into her waiting palm. "Cut off his pride—that which hangs between his legs. Then take his eyes and his tongue. Remove his skin in boiling water. Leave him in a town to live out his days as a monument to his crimes."

Lucien's voice hardened, the calm giving way to something more ancient and terrible.

"And change the laws of Clafton City. Anyone who dares to force themselves upon another shall receive the same punishment. Death is too easy for these bastards. The Everwound Dagger will never let any injury it makes heal. Now get him out of my sight."

Celbeth grabbed Dain by his hair, dragging him across the floor like refuse. He clawed at the ground, his nails splitting, his screams growing hoarse. Naked and weaponless, his judgment clouded by lust that had led him to this moment, he could do nothing but beg—and his pleas fell on deaf ears.

Lucien allowed himself a brief glance at Lord Vale's face, drinking in the satisfaction that bloomed there. Then his gaze shifted to Rena, pale and shaken, before he turned and left the room without another word.

Later that night, Lucien lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers to questions he hadn't yet formed. The silence of his chambers was broken by a soft knock.

"Come in," he said, his voice flat.

The door opened to reveal Maisy, her brow furrowed with worry. She crossed the room and sat beside him on the bed, her presence a small comfort against the weight of his thoughts.

"Master, are you worried about Rena?" she asked softly.

"No..." Lucien's voice trailed off before he continued. "She has mother, Lady Rosebeth, and Lady Liley. I don't think I should be worried. We were fortunate to arrive in time—before something irreparable happened."

Maisy tilted her head, her eyes searching his face. "Then why do you look so tense, Master?"

He turned to meet her gaze, and for a moment, the mask slipped. She saw the fear beneath—the cold dread that had taken root in his heart.

"I'm worried about you," he admitted. "Dain's target was you. You are a mortal, unable to fight against cultivators. He thought you were an easy target."

Maisy gasped softly, though she had already known this. What stunned her was the rawness in his voice—the realization that he had been tormented by the possibility of what could have happened. Just because the worst had not come to pass did not mean it never could. That was why he was so tense.

"Master, I know you would protect me no matter what happens," she said, her voice gentle but certain.

"No." Lucien sat up abruptly, his hand finding hers. "Let me be very clear, Maisy. I do not care about Rena. But you are different. I am going to ask you to do something, and please—do not say no."

She smiled, that radiant smile that always seemed to chase away his shadows. "I will never say no to you, Master. I told you before—for all your questions, my answer will always be yes."

"Then listen carefully." His grip tightened. "I want you to become a Realm Master. I want you to start cultivating. I want you to become strong enough to protect yourself against wretched creatures like Dain."

Maisy's smile faltered, doubt creeping into her features. "But Master, I am just a mortal. Even you had a difficult time with cultivation—how could I possibly—"

Lucien pressed his finger to her lips, silencing her protests.

"Don't think. And don't forget who your master is." His voice held an edge of command, but his eyes were soft. "Opening a spirit root for cultivation in a soul isn't impossible. If Evelyn could do this, you can too. From now on, you will only work half time. I will tell Father to hire more maids. Just focus on your cultivation—ask for help from Evelyn and Celbeth."

He reached into the void and withdrew Astral Marrow Pills and Primordial Soul Seeds, placing them carefully in her hands. The items glowed with an inner light, pulsing with potential.

"Don't forget—ask for help from Evelyn and Celbeth. You can trust both of them after me."

Lucien smiled, and it was a rare and precious thing.

Maisy stared at the treasures in her palms, her voice barely above a whisper. "Master, I don't think this is necessary. I am just a maid."

He reached out and cupped her cheek, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.

"Maisy, you are not just a maid." His thumb traced her cheekbone, feather-light. "Do you not realize how differently I treat you? You are not a maid to me—you are more than that. You are my treasure."

The words hung between them, heavy with meaning. Then Maisy surged forward, wrapping her arms around him so tightly that he fell back onto the bed. She landed on top of him, her face inches from his, their breath mingling in the space between them.

"Master, I will do what you said." Her voice trembled with emotion. "But if I fail to open my spirit root... please do not be angry with me. Do not be disappointed. I will still be your personal maid—sorry, more than a maid."

She hugged him even tighter, and Lucien felt the warmth of her tears against his neck.

He patted her head, his fingers threading through her hair. "How could I ever be disappointed in you? You are my pride."

Maisy's cheeks flushed crimson. She pulled back, her eyes wide, before scrambling off him and bolting from the room without another word. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Lucien alone with the ghost of her warmth.

Lucien lay back on the bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling once more. His thoughts churned like a storm.

He loved people who worked hard. More than that, he loved those who were truly loyal—those who would stand beside him even when the world burned around them. But he had realized something tonight, something that gnawed at him like a persistent ache.

As he grew stronger, those who trusted him, who believed in him, would be left behind. They would become his weakness—leverage for his enemies, targets for his rivals.

There were two paths before him.

First, he could eliminate everyone he cared about. Sever all connections. Fight alone, always alone, until he was nothing but a weapon pointed at the heavens. He would never know peace, never sleep without one eye open.

Second, he could make the people closest to him strong. Very strong. If he had the resources, he could forge them into weapons of their own—trusted allies who would never betray him because they had never abandoned him when he was weak. They would not leave him when he became powerful. And in the future, such allies would be invaluable.

Especially when his goal was to rule the entire realm.

A slight smile curved his lips.

"You can come out now," he said, his voice cutting through the silence. "I know you're there."

Celbeth emerged from the shadows, her grin wolfish and hungry. "Oh, I thought you would be mesmerized by Maisy's beauty. I really thought I'd witness some action between you two. But god, you disappointed me."

Lucien snorted. "How was it?"

"It was fun." Celbeth's eyes sparkled with malicious glee. "His screams—ahhh, that was magnificent."

"Sometimes I feel like you definitely have a few screws loose," he muttered.

She laughed, unbothered, and flopped onto the bed beside him. "By the way, why did you create such a scenario where Rena had to go change in Maisy's room? I mean, she's from the branch family. What would have happened if something had actually happened to her?"

Lucien's expression cooled. "Years ago, she falsely accused me of trying to force myself on her. I simply wanted her to know that it is not good to falsely accuse someone of something they never experienced. There are women who truly need help but no one helps them—and then there are women who use false accusations for their own gain. It's not fair. Let this be her lesson."

"Ah." Celbeth nodded approvingly. "So you used her own retainer against her. Made her feel the betrayal of someone she trusted, just as you once trusted her. Well, whatever—at least I had my fun."

"Take care of Maisy," Lucien said, his voice turning serious. "Teach her cultivation. And she's a mortal, so don't force her too much."

"Yeah, yeah." Celbeth waved a dismissive hand. "I can see you care for her. Now move—I have to sleep too."

"Can't you sleep with Evelyn? Or in the servant's quarters?" Lucien demanded.

"Your bed is much better." She wiggled closer. "Let me make it warm for you."

"I think I do need to find a better place," he muttered, staring at the ceiling. "This estate suddenly feels too small."

A giant palace loomed at its heart, surrounded by an endless forest that whispered secrets older than any kingdom. The palace dwarfed any castle or estate in the realm, its purple pointy roofs piercing the sky like the fingers of forgotten gods. At the massive gate, several Realm Masters stood in ceremonial greeting, but their polished smiles were merely a pretense.

They were here to assess the new disciples—to measure their dignity, their strength, their power, their influence. Factions were already forming, alliances being forged before the first lesson had even begun.

In the academy's central courtyard, a magnificent fountain glittered under the morning sun. Above it, a floating board displayed names that shimmered in the air like living things—the top ten disciples of the academy.

"I hope everyone is ready for the Ancient Guardian Trial," an instructor announced, his voice carrying across the assembled crowd.

Author Note:

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